Trunk of My Computer - STS, RJD2

Trying to sell a milli out the trunk of my computer

Blow up like bubble gum you heard the story like Bazooka

The center of attention when I post up like a

If it’s in their problems then I pass it to my shooters

When the Buddha’s in my system will I fuck her will I

That’s the shit they be yelling

Fuck that shit you be selling

Ain’t no telling what you cut that with

Wouldn’t touch that shit with a long pole

But I suppose that ya’ll don’t see the go

Fuck with me the long way

Don’t fuck with me the wrong way

Ask a man politely with a gun like Al Caponay

I meant to say Capone

I meant to say

When it started for this shit slip right from the dome

I slip right in your home

I slip like vocal tones

They see right through your speakers

I’m reaching out to meet you

If I don’t get to greet you at a show you should know

Appreciate you very much that you would fuck with a flow

You know how that shit go

I could go bat shit bro

Until that fat lady sang I got the rap shit sold

And when my Mac unloads from my Itunes folder

Motherfucker don’t be acting like I ain’t told ya

Or act like I owed ya

Something for nothing

Cause ain’t nobody give me when them records wasn’t playing

And the po were trying to sue us for something we never playing

To make short change I was just a heavy fan

Goddamn

Ya’ll niggas trippin' man

I put that work in

Every beat gets a murkin'

STS from ATL if you been searching

Like undercover PO trying to find weed on my person

For something that’s gon' get you up but not your certain

Nothing’s promised or honest like eh

Proclamation’s I’m making I only make

To the rhythm I give 'em these quotes antidotes and they dope

They full of hope when you’re broke

And you both barely float up the river

Don’t you quiver don’t you shiver don’t you shake

Rivers lead to greater things in life like oceans and to lakes

Give you that one you can take

Then go home — mediate

Take an honest inventory on yourself

Hold up wait

Hold up mate

I can’t fake

I can’t flake

I can’t

I hard being legendary when a loser

Must go hard that’s my theory

Sigmund Freud

Ya’ll don’t hear me

Dear lord — if you really listen this will be the one

I been trying to reach the Sun

I can barely touch stars

And my arms too short to even try to box God

Box Chevy with the 15s in the trunk

From the Southside homie if the shit don’t thump

They gon' chuck that at an Amoco pump

Can’t fight that funk when it hit you in the face

Like mace that burns when you learn they don’t dig what you did

But you did what you did cause you did what you do

Hell I been through it too

When the record courteous but aloof

Show some cool

Fuck a suit

Had to show 'em who the truth

But the proofs in the pudding

Putting on for my city

A-town back to Philly

Look at shawty on the

All started with a poem and a and dutch and a whole bunch of us in a cypher

with a lighter and a freestyle to bust

Motherfucker look at us — look at us

Look at us you finally got the memo

Didn’t think I’d make it this far

As I think back reminisce on my demo

I’m glad I had this time to evolve

With most of all just society’s ills

I was concealed in sound proofed booths

Eating loops of instrumentals

A pad a pen to pencil the pictures I paint of mental

Quite simple like a Shel Silverstein nevermind

All these niggas really want to do is do it for the vine

the gram never gave a damn if people liked me or not

I stay in my space doing what I think is hot

Don’t need no Facebook friend

Family is all I got

Now folk will flop when they see you as a cash crop

Same folk will flock when they see the cash dock

Can’t stop now we on a roll again

Roller coaster bends

Ups and downs and the turnarounds

Hear the funky sounds banging through your eardrums

RJD2 also me too

Enjoy what we do

This ain’t no freestyle

Homie had a child and we both trying to eat to